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“It was interesting to meet you, Miss Tanner,” he said, still holding my hand. “I wasn’t kidding about the payment plan. You can mail me your ideas and a respectable timeline.”
“Likewise, Mr…I didn’t catch your name, actually.”
“You won’t need it.” He let go of my hand and opened the door. “Goodbye, Miss Tanner.”
MOTIVE (N.)
THE PROBABLE REASON A PERSON COMMITTED A CRIME, SUCH AS JEALOUSY, GREED, REVENGE OR PART OF A THEFT
DAMIEN
Itossed Miss Tanner’s application into the trash.
Even if she weren’t a massive fraud, I wouldn’t dare hire her to work here; I’d only managed to ask four genuine questions during her interview because I was far too aroused and distracted by her presence.
Each time she sipped from her cup, and any time her cheeks flushed red from a lie, I’d envisioned pulling her up by her hair and screwing her against the windows.
I’m voting hell no.
Approaching the conference room, I adjusted my tie before opening the door.
“Good morning.” I extended my hand to a woman in a cream-colored suit. “I’m Damien Carter.”
“I know who you are.” She smiled. “I’m Winter Matthews. I requested you specifically.”
“How can I help you, Miss Matthews?”
“Someone plagiarized my work and is making millions from it, so I want to sue them into oblivion.”
Intrigued, I motioned for her to take a seat.
I took a pen from my jacket.
“I’ll need some proof, but tell me a bit more about your stolen work.”
“Gladly. Do you know what it’s like to see the words you’ve poured your blood, sweat, and tears into, under someone else’s name?” Her voice cracked. “It’s like asoulinvasion.”
I handed her a Kleenex.
“While the thief is garnering attention, new followers, and awards, I’m—” She sniffled. “I’m languishing in the background.”
“Well, we have a dedicated team that handles copyright infringement,” I said. “I’ll make sure they take your case seriously.”
“Good, because this thieving ass bitch needs to go down.” Her eyes suddenly went wide, and her tone completely shifted.
“Here’s your proof.” She slid her phone to me. “I need to see her in an orange prison jumpsuit, and I want every dime she’s ever received from my words.”
“Wait a second.” I glanced at her screen. “Did you tap something by accident? This looks like someone’s personal X or Twitter account.”
“Haven’t you been listening?” She scoffed. “She stole mytweets! She copied and pasted them word for word, line for line, emoji for emoji.”
I set down the phone.
“I tweeted ‘On my grind, walking under the clouds of focus in my mind’ on October thirteenth and I got three likes. Thisimposterwrites the same thing two weeks later and she got two and a half million likes.”
I blinked.
“If you scroll down to a week after that blatant act of plagiarism, I said, ‘Can’t relate to the fakeness. I’m way too real,’ and I got twenty-eight likes and five comments. She added aheart emoji to those exact words—myexact words—and she got her biggest tweet of all time?Of all time!”
